A storm is coming they say; it will feel like New York on a freezing January dawn they say; but from where I’m sitting it’s mild as could be, the daffodils are in full bloom, lambing will soon begin, my bunnies have had babies and my bucolic fantasies have been kicked into full swing.
I live in London, have lived in New York and Sydney but grew up in the British countryside. Kent – that garden of England – since you ask. And I HATED IT! We lived in a “village” apparently -actually we were outside said village by two whole miles which meant one bus every two hours, hops fields aplenty, a creepy road with no streetlights and frightening middle-of-the-night no-noise. A country bumpkin I was not (I was born in London within the sound of the Bow bells – so am an official Cockney).
But every now and then – usually when I’m tired of the morning crowded commute and a diary-committed schedule admittedly -I long for the kind of peace only acres of green horizon and animals can bring.
Moving to the country isn’t an option – I do recognise my natural urban nature and short attention span – so I bring it home instead. I have two beautiful rabbits that have now become a family of six (so exciting to watch! Kits being born and fed is Mother Nature in supreme action), a dog I take for long lazy walks on the Heath (she’s not bothered, it’s me that needs the exercise and quiet reflection), and a garden that always gives me solace. But, every so often, my inner Kate Humble rumbles……
Love Jane x